at side would not be liable to be
observed by the general inmates of the Manor-house. When Amos had asked
who was there, a short figure, partly muffled up in a cloak, rose from
where it had been crouching against the wall, and a man's voice said in
a loud whisper, "Is that you, Mr Amos?"

"What do you want with me at this hour?" was the reply.

"Ah! all right," rejoined the stranger; "here--catch this." Saying
which, he flung something up at the opening made by the raising of the
window. "A bad shot," said the mysterious person half out loud, and
with perfect coolness, as the thing he was throwing fell short of its
mark. "Try again." Suiting the action to the word, he a second time
aimed at the opening, and now with success. A small packet fell into
the room, and reached the floor with a "thud."

"All right; good-night," said the thrower with a chuckle, and soon
disappeared through the falling snow, which was now coming down thickly.

What could be the meaning of this strange performance? Was it some
foolish hoax or practical joke played off by Saunders or Gregson, or
some other of Walter's giddy and not over-considerate companions? He
almost thought it must be so, and that his brother had put them up to
the joke for some wild piece of fun, or to win some senseless wager.
Rather vexed at the thought, and not feeling over amiable towards the
missile, if such it was, which had come so unseasonably and so
unceremoniously into his chamber, he was half inclined at first to throw
it back through the window on to the snow. And yet, perhaps, he had
better see what it was. So he took it from the floor. It was a little
brown paper parcel, about three inches square, and very heavy for its
size. His curiosity was now excited. He opened the packet warily, lest
it should contain something explosive, such as might cause a report, not
dangerous in itself, but calculated to alarm the family. There was
nothing, however, of such a kind, but merely a flat piece of thick tile,
with a sheet of note-paper doubled round it.

Rather annoyed at the folly of the whole thing, he slowly unfolded the
paper, and opened it out. The writing struck him at once; it was his
sister's. The contents of the letter staggered him. That his sister
had written it there could be no doubt. That she was in grievous
trouble, and that her villainous husband had violated his pledge and was
removing the children out of his reach, was equally plain.